The Sibling Stalking Club
by Fortune Maiden
Summary: Over the years, Belarus, Norway and Switzerland have found that stalking- ahem, watching over their siblings has become more difficult...because their siblings teamed up against them. Well, we'll just have to see about that! Cowritten with Koder.
1. The Club Forms part 1

**Disclaimer: This Fic is written by Fortune Maiden and Koder. The Idea is ours but unfortunately Hetalia isn't. Hetalia belongs to Himaruya. **

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><p>The Sibling Stalking Club<p>

Chapter 1: The Club forms (part 1)

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><p><strong><em>1500 hours<em>**

**_Somewhere in Europe_**

There were many times in Switzerland's life where he questioned his actions and whether or not they were worth the inevitable problems they would bring. The William Tell Incident (totally worth it!), fighting for France for money (too troublesome), and of course stalking his cute little sister whenever she went out into the evil world, to protect her from idiot drivers, annoying salesmen, and men. He definitely never had any regrets, but today he was seriously starting to wander if stalking Liechtenstein would get him killed one day. Like today.

It was shameful to admit, but he was not the stealthiest of nations. His habit of carrying a rifle around and jumping out from his poorly thought-out hiding places aiming it when someone dared come close to Liechtenstein were incredibly obvious giveaways. Liechtenstein was a smart girl. Over time, she learned to avoid her big brother and was able to wander the world freely while he went crazy trying to follow her. Today was one of those days.

As he walked around the ambiguous European city hiding in a bush, he finally found a wandering nation. Only it wasn't Liechtenstein…it was Russia.

"What is he doing here?" Switzerland thought angrily. He knew for sure that his darling sister was somewhere in this city, and did not like the idea that Russia was here too. What if they were to bump into each other! Liechtenstein was unarmed; she hadn't finished her stranger-danger training (it ended with more cute stamps being made), and Russia was…well, Russia! Switzerland didn't really care about the large nation's past or his present or anything really. But Russia was male, and in the same vicinity as Liechtenstein. Something needed to be done!

Russia walked the streets very calmly, seemingly unaware (or uninterested) in the walking shrub following him. He looked around the area occasionally but was otherwise very inconspicuous (well he wasn't the one in the shrub was he?). Switzerland was very close to ditching the large landmass and going back to his true hunt when the Russian national anthem suddenly blasted the streets.

"Алло?" Russia answered his phone cheerfully, "Oh Iceland, how are you doing?"

Switzerland frowned. Iceland was that quiet nation with the annoying talking bird. He always seemed to be very reserved…Why was he making phone calls to Russia?

"I see, that's not good at all," Russia frowned, "But don't worry, I'm pretty far away now. This area isn't clear though."

Clear? What was he talking about? Switzerland edged closer hoping to hear what Iceland was saying. Unfortunately, when one is on their knees in a shrub and the other is a 6 foot tall nation, holding a phone to their ear, there is no possible way to hear the full conversation, only Russia's side of it.

"I can't really tell…but I'm by the Starbucks next to the park…Yes, I'll let her know too. Good Bye." Russia snapped his phone shut, before opening it again to get another phone number from his address book. He pressed the phone to his ear.

"Алло? Lilli?" Russia glanced at the inconspicuous shrub beside him. Switzerland's grip tightened around his gun. No, no, no. Not possible! Russia was not calling…no it was absurd!

"How are you holding up?" he asked cheerfully, "I'm fine, Ice seems to have found you know who over by the department store…Да, you should tell him…Well I seem to have a lost birdie too…You're on Bleaker Street? Okay then." Russia smiled a bit too creepily for Switzerland's taste.

"I'll be off then. Call me if anything happens…" he glanced at the shrub again very briefly "…Liechtenstein." He flipped his phone shut.

Switzerland was speechless. It was true. Russia was making phone calls to Liechtenstein. Why? How? Wait, did he say Bleaker Street? That was on the other side of the city! How did Liechtenstein get so far away from his sights!

Had not a very convenient text message appeared on his phone at that moment, he would have dashed off to Bleaker Street…

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><p>Belarus was pissed…Well, she was always pissed, but she was particularly unhappy today. Her beloved big brother was lost in this evil city, and she couldn't find him! Somehow, Russia had gotten better at evading her. This was horrible! How were they supposed to get married if she couldn't even keep track of her future husband! And she used to be so good at it too!<p>

Belarus' stalking method consisted of hiding behind alleys and keeping a distance between her and her target. She was a professional stalker, albeit with a small weakness. When she got too excited, she would emit a cold intimidating aura that most people could pick up on. Usually this aura activated around Russia when she let her mind run away a little. Today, however, this aura happened to activate when she finally found a nation…that wasn't Russia. The poor wall of the alley she was hiding behind never saw it coming.

"Iceland." Belarus muttered coldly glaring at the young silver haired nation. Normally, Belarus ignored nations that didn't get in her way. Iceland was not one of those nations, oh no; Belarus had a particular dislike of that little economically challenged brat. He just had to get sick and have her dear sweet Russia take care of him three years ago, didn't he?

Now what was Iceland doing here? Alone, and in the same city as Russia? Surely, they were not planning to meet in private were they? Oh no, Belarus would never, ever, let that happen.

She crept closer to Iceland. He froze when he felt her freezing aura envelope him and quickly pulled out his cell phone.

"We have a problem." He stated simply. Belarus raised a brow. Who was he talking to now? "It's suddenly very cold over here." She heard him "Tsk" in annoyance.

"Well I'm glad _you're_ far away but what am I supposed to do exactly?" He glanced around. "Who's over there exactly? Norway or…Too bad…Make sure you tell Liechtenstein too…Bye." He ended the call began to walk again. But now Belarus was fully interested in him. So he was talking to Liechtenstein too, was he? Switzerland would probably love to hear that information. Maybe there was no need for her to get her hands dirty. She would be content with Switzerland shooting the little brat.

Belarus quickly pulled out her phone and typed "Are you aware that your sister is exchanging phone calls with Iceland?" before sending it to Switzerland.

She got a reply rather quickly.

"Are you aware that your brother is too?"

The temperature dropped a few more degrees.

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><p>Norway was starting to get bored. He really hated it when things didn't work out well for him. So he was concerned for his little brother's safety and well-being! That didn't give Iceland the right to disappear on him when he was only trying to make sure Iceland got to wherever he was headed in one piece.<p>

After realizing that not only had he no clue where the hell Iceland was, but was also lost, Norway sat down in a little café and ordered a coffee. Unlike Switzerland and Belarus, Norway's method of stalking was to dress up in a fancy suit, hat and sunglasses and walk around looking very posh. He hated getting his hands and clothes dirty.

Disguises were the best way to watch over someone. The only problem was that Norway was rather fond of using his nisse as a scout. Iceland, being his brother, could easily detect Norway's magical creatures, and therefore knew when he was being followed (not to mention, it was very hard to miss a very posh guy following you around). He had gotten good at avoiding them. Now whenever Norway went out to follow him, he wound up very bored. Couldn't something exciting happen already?

As Norway drank his coffee, he spotted a familiar blonde girl with a purple ribbon and a pink dress, on the phone nearby. Liechtenstein? What was she doing here?

"Just tell him I'm on Bleaker Street or something," she said cheerfully, "That'll buy us both some time. Okay, Tschüs Russia!" She turned her iPhone off and slid it into her purse. Norway watched curiously. Liechtenstein and Russia? What an odd pair. He glanced at the street sign. Avenue Z… Bleaker Street was on the other side of the city. Clever girl.

Now Norway really had no interest in what Russia and Liechtenstein were up to. Until the little girl suddenly pulled out her phone again, dialed a number and said, very audibly, "Hey Icy."

Norway nearly choked on his precious coffee. She was in contact with Iceland too? What? Why? They were close in human age weren't they? They weren't…Dating were they? Impossible! But she called him "Icy"! No one ever got away with calling him that!

Then Norway's phone suddenly received a text. He set his coffee cup down and pulled out his reliable Sony Ericsson. The text was from Switzerland.

"As a fellow older brother, I should probably inform you that Belarus is probably about to murder Iceland."

Norway cursed. He probably shouldn't have wished for any excitement.

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><p>Switzerland sighed frustrated. He probably shouldn't have sent Belarus that message. He should have thought that one out a bit. Iceland was a sweet kid when his stupid volcano wasn't terrorizing half of Europe. If he got in with the wrong crowd, it was Norway's job to set him straight, not Belarus'. But when Switzerland realized that Iceland was probably talking to his little sister, he sort off lost control. But he warned Norway about the impending doom too, so it was fine…wasn't it?<p>

Dammit, he was supposed to be neutral. How did he get himself involved in this mess?

There was no time for Switzerland to worry about his conscience as his cell phone started ringing very loudly. Now it was definitely not an everyday occurrence for a bizarrely placed shrub to start singing the Swiss national anthem, so people started to gather. Russia used the convenient situation to get away. Drat.

"What do you want?" the gun toting nation hissed angrily.

"If you would like to know what your little sister is up to, tell me where Iceland is right now." Norway's soft but very frigid voice demanded.

Switzerland's eyes widened. "GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER YOU FAIRY-SEEING FREAK!" he yelled jumping up from the shrub not really caring that people were around.

"Don't confuse me for England. And tell me where my brother is or…" a pause. "I _will_ get away from Liechtenstein and then you will have no idea where she is." Damn, that Nordic was good. But Switzerland was better.

"I already know where she is. Bleaker Street. I'm heading there right now." Switzerland heard an evil chuckle from the other end.

"Oh so that's what she meant. Sorry Thrifty but she is most definitely not on Bleaker Street."

Switzerland's jaw dropped. Liechtenstein lied to him? He was going to have a very serious talk with her when he found her. But if she wasn't on Bleaker Street then where…

"Tell me where my sister is!"

"Only when you tell me where my brother is."

"The hell I know! I only overheard Russia talking to him and then accidentally told Belarus that Iceland was exchanging phone calls with him."

A brief pause followed.

"Switzerland," Norway began in a tone that was only reserved for Denmark when the latter did something stupid, "How do you accidentally tell a psychopath that her almost-as-psychopathic brother is making phone calls to my poor, defenseless brother?" Switzerland best decided not to answer.

"Never mind, quit wasting my time and find Iceland." Switzerland twitched at the commanding tone. Just who was this rich fish lover to order him around?

"How am I supposed to do that? Can't you call him?"

"Switzerland, can you tell me why you don't just call your sister and ask her where she is?" Norway began condescendingly.

"She'll ignore my call and—" Switzerland sighed. Iceland probably would ignore both of them if he was in league with Liechtenstein in avoiding them.

Then it hit him like a punch to the face. Those three teamed up. Russia's call from Iceland was the young Nordic revealing that he had found Belarus, and Russia's call to Liechtenstein was to give Switzerland a false lead. Dammit!

"I'll call you back," Switzerland said, and hit the end call button on his phone before Norway could protest. He quickly dialed Belarus' number.

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><p>Belarus was <em>this<em> close to stabbing her knife through Iceland's back, when her phone started vibrating. She quickly retreated into the shadows, before Iceland even noticed her (when Belarus was on the hunt, she always hid her deadly aura).

"What!" she spat into the phone.

"It's me." Switzerland answered, "If you haven't killed Iceland yet, do you mind waiting a minute?"

"I do actually," the Belarusian girl retorted sharply.

"You'll like what I have to say, so hold on." Belarus waited tapping her foot impatiently despite no one being able to hear it. A minute later (she counted) Switzerland's voice resurfaced along with a dial tone.

"What now?" the dial tone ended and an annoyed slightly exasperated voice answered. Belarus frowned. Norway.

"Alright Belarus are you there? And is Iceland alive?" Switzerland asked.

"Unfortunately."

"Good. Listen up," Switzerland's voice took on an authoritative tone, and Belarus was suddenly filled with the desire to punch him. She settled for carving stick figures out of the wall she was hiding behind.

"Our siblings have teamed up against us." She was going to carve a little Switzerland and an Iceland and…what did he just say?

"Teamed up?" Norway asked, annoyed, "And you just realized that _now_?"

"SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" Belarus held the phone away from her ear. She added a couple of stakes to her doodles.

"Each of us has found one of our siblings. Norway found Liechtenstein, Belarus found Iceland and—"

"YOU FOUND MY BROTHER?" Belarus shouted excitedly and accidentally stabbed a hole through the wall she was drawing on. The crash that followed no doubt disturbed the two nations on the other end.

"Where is he?"

"Tell me where Ice is first." Norway said coldly.

"H-hey! What about Liechtenstein?" Switzerland piped up angrily.

"I demand to know where my brother is first!"

"**_I_****celand**."

"_Liechtenstein_."

"Russia. I have a knife and we all know Iceland won't stand a chance against me. So either someone tells me where my brother is, or I'll tell you where Ice's remains will be."

A moment of silence followed.

"I last saw him around 12th street. Norway calling me scared him off though. He should still be around though." Switzerland explained coldly. Belarus nodded. Finally, something useful.

"Thank you. Norway. Where is Liechtenstein?" she asked emotionlessly. While Belarus hated those who got in her way, and ignored those who didn't, she was very helpful to those who helped her. Now that she knew where Russia was, Switzerland could know where Liechtenstein was.

Norway, who tended to avoid conflicts by nature, thought it best not to argue.

"She's on Avenue Z by the little coffee shop." He stated simply.

"Now was that so difficult?" Belarus mocked, "Iceland is on 3rd street by the giant department store. Bye." She quickly hung up and began her journey to find Russia.

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><p>An hour later, a defeated Norway found an equally defeated Belarus and Switzerland in a little park near the city. They sat on opposite ends of a bench with their arms crossed. Norway sat down between them exhausted.<p>

"So what's your story?" he asked turning to Switzerland.

The Swiss nation scowled. "By the time I got to Avenue Z, Liechtenstein called and told me she was almost home."

"Oh," The Nordic turned to Belarus, "And you?"

The girl just spat in the dirt, earning a look of contempt from the northern nation.

"By the time I reached 12th street, Big Brother was long gone. The End." Clearly, something else happened too, but Norway didn't care to press the issue.

"What about you Norway?" Switzerland asked nonchalantly. Norway just sighed.

"I was close. He was within my sights…" Norway took out his phone and started crushing it, "But then Denmark called and by the time I got off the phone with him, Ice was gone." Beside him Belarus smirked.

"Haven't you ever heard of the ignore button?"

"You try ignoring the guy who programs your _silent_ phone to play 'The Oresund Song' on full blast when he calls."

There wasn't a nation alive who didn't know about that song, especially since a rather drunk Denmark decided to play the video at the last Copenhagen Conference. Many minds were scarred that day. An awkward silence (minus Belarus' snickers) followed until Switzerland decided to change the subject.

"I can't believe they teamed up on us."

"Why not?" Belarus scoffed, "Our history is nothing but teaming up against each other. I'm surprised they hadn't teamed up earlier."

"Maybe _we_ should team up then." Norway retorted.

Switzerland pursed his lips. Iceland, Liechtenstein and Russia… A very bizarre and unlikely alliance. But they all had one thing in common. They couldn't go out with a sibling following them. In his case, it was all for protection. Liechtenstein was blessed with a very cute face and innocent aura, and as a member of the male species, Switzerland knew that there were people out of there who would take advantage of that.

In Norway's case, Iceland was a bit on the frail side. Considering his whole history, it was amazing that Norway hadn't locked him in a bubble. Belarus' case was completely different. Russia was more than capable of taking care of himself. She just wouldn't take "I won't marry you" for an answer.

In the past few years, their siblings had gotten better and better at avoiding them. Had they been allied that whole time? It was definitely possible. If they were allied than allying against them was the best idea. They had gotten close to finding their targets today, hadn't they? It was really more of a timing (and cell phone) issue than anything else.

Switzerland took pride in his neutrality. He had been neutral since Napoleon and really had no intention of getting involved in other nations' affairs. But this was different. It would be a defense alliance! An alliance to defend their young innocent (or in Russia's case: old, innocent) siblings from the dangers of the world.

He smiled mischievously. "Maybe we should."

"Huh?"

Switzerland jumped up off the bench.

"I'm serious. We were pretty close to catching them today weren't we? We should ally against them from now on." This idea was met with blank looks.

"I don't make alliances with you westerners." Belarus stated simply, her hate aura radiating again.

"It's not a political alliance, _stupid_," Norway snapped at her, "It's more of a silly club than anything else."

"What? A Sibling Stalking Club?" the girl jeered, "And what? Do we stalk each other's siblings from now on?"

"Stalking isn't the word I would use," Switzerland admitted, "But that's the idea. They'll never suspect that we're watching them for each other."

Norway thought about this. It made sense so far. He did not like to be in the same breathing space as a certain incestuous psychopath so Iceland would never suspect her of stalking him. And Switzerland had a habit of helping no one, so no one would ever suspect him.

"Let's try it." Switzerland nodded and both men turned to Belarus.

"What about you?" the Swiss asked.

"I'll think about it."

"You do that. Switzerland and I just won't watch Russia until you agree to help us."

"Tch." Belarus crossed her arms. "Fine, I'm in. Now what?"

"Now we get lunch." Norway answered calmly. His new allies stared at him incredulously. "I'm hungry, and we can discuss our little club there."

"Fine." Belarus stood up, "If you don't mind Draniki, we can eat at my house." Switzerland, a potato lover in his own right, agreed. Norway however, didn't.

"I was thinking we could go to a nice restaurant," the northern nation muttered. This was met with demonic glares. "What now?"

"I'm broke you asshole." Belarus hissed. That demon-like aura was coming back…

"Nice restaurants are expensive." Switzerland grumbled. Norway sighed. He forgot who he was dealing with.

"My apologies. I forgot about your less than pleasant economic situations. My treat." Belarus and Switzerland knew he was insulting them…

…but they were silent the whole walk to the restaurant.

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><p><strong>Fortune Maiden: That's it for Chapter 1. Next time, the "club" works out some details and recruits some new members! <strong>

**Super Duper Important Disclaimer: "The Oresund Song" is real and off limits to everyone! The video WILL scar you for life and if you understand Danish, so will the lyrics. Seriously people, don't listen to it! Ever! (If you absolutely must, and are scarred...we _did_ warn you so we do not take responsibility for any mental scarring) **


	2. The Club Forms part 2

The Sibling Stalking Club

Chapter 2: The Club Forms (Part 2)

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><p><strong><em>1800 hours<em>**

**_Somewhere in Europe_**

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><p>The restaurant was a short bus ride away in a clearly fancier part of the city. It was on the top floor of a very luxurious 5 star hotel, where everyone dressed in proper suits and dresses. Switzerland and Belarus suddenly felt very out of place in their usual military jacket and blue dress but said nothing. Norway fit in just fine with his posh 'disguise'.<p>

One really had to wonder how often Norway went to this particular restaurant after his failed stalking attempts, for the waiter seemed well-acquainted with him, knowing right away where to seat him and what he wanted. After giving Switzerland and Belarus a very snide 'richer-than-thou' look, the waiter handed them a pair of menus.

"Nice place," Belarus quipped calmly flipping through the menu, "Expensive."

"Just order whatever you want," Norway replied, tapping his slender fingers on the tablecloth as he awaited his order. This was a very efficient place. He wouldn't be waiting long.

"Is that really okay?" Switzerland asked, suddenly a bit uncomfortable. This place was really nice. A simple salad probably cost more than he spent monthly on groceries.

"It's fine. Just don't order six of everything on the menu."

"Who—"

"Finland."

"Oh."

The waiter returned with Norway's usual Reinsdyrsteik and vegetables a moment later and took the others orders. As the Norwegian didn't really fancy himself a gentleman, he started eating first, declaring that they could begin their discussion after lunch. Belarus and Switzerland just stayed silent looking in a random direction. It was right as the waiter brought them their meal that Belarus noticed a rather familiar looking curl sticking out from under a table…

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><p>"Okay, target in sight," Romano muttered to himself, glancing out from the little window of view his curl provided as it held up the tablecloth. He could easily make out a nearby table at which two men in very fancy Italian shoes sat. "So the potato bastard is wearing our shoes now huh?"<p>

It had begun as an ordinary day for Romano. He woke up, cursed the living daylights out of the bright sun, had breakfast (pasta, of course), cursed at the news anchors that dutifully reported his boss's latest scandal, ate a tomato, and then heard his brother announce that he was going to a restaurant with the potato bastard. It was that last thing that broke the ordinary rhythm of the day. As soon as Romano had found out where his stupid brother was going, he donned a suit and followed him to this particular restaurant. He then proceeded to hide under a table very close to his brother's and watch them. Veneziano was an idiot. Someone had to protect him from the potato bastard's evil kinky seducing.

The potato bastard was good. As soon as they arrived he had casually told Italy to order whatever he liked, made some nice (EVIL!) suggestions, and had the waiter bring them _the_ most expensive wine in the restaurant. Seriously, what happened to that bumbling moron who completely humiliated himself on Valentine's Day all those decades ago? (Yep, he knew. He was watching over Veneziano then too)

It sickened him to watch his little brother be fooled like that. A relationship with Germany was…unthinkable. But what could he do? Veneziano never listened to him and the potato bastard was too scary to approach and tell off. And to make matters worse, it seemed like the German bastard knew Romano was there and was purposely keeping his voice low.

Sure Romano could attempt to intrude on their 'date'. Veneziano would be surprised and cheerfully invite him to the table. The potato bastard would be annoyed but not say anything about it. And he would behave, that was most important. He wouldn't dare try anything funny with Romano around. But Romano needed him to behave when he wasn't watching too. He couldn't watch over Veneziano forever and ever since those two started 'hanging out' (yeah right), it cut into his own life. He hadn't hit on a random pretty girl in months! Unacceptable.

Romano decided that he needed a better location. Like under their table. Now he would just have to get over there…

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><p>"That is some pretty pathetic stalking," Norway commented as he stared at the curl sticking out from the table. In the time that Belarus had alerted them to Romano's presence and he had his whole internal monologue, the trio finished their appetizers and watched his curl bounce with looks ranging from pity to amusement, as they waited for their main dishes. Anyone could tell that his 'clever' hiding was failing as Germany was constantly staring at it with an annoyed look. Italy remained as oblivious as ever, of course.<p>

"Is he actually trying to accomplish anything from that position? All he can probably see is their shoes," Switzerland observed.

Belarus was the amused one. Hiding under a table was a pretty old trick; she had done it herself in the 14th century. Back then, listening devices hadn't existed, so the young girl had to use various kitchen tools to project her brother's voice. Thank God Russia had a lot of marble around too. But now in the glorious 21st century, Romano could easily stick a listening device somewhere and casually listen in on his brother's, dare she think it, date. If he would just hide his stupid curl, his stalking would actually be successful. Maybe she could tell him? …Nah.

"Perhaps we should return to our club," Belarus suggested sipping her Kvass, "So we need a meeting place, a stalking schedule, club positions—"

"How about some more members?" Norway suggested, eyes still fixated on the curl, "Maybe he'll be useful."

"Big Brother says that having an Italian as an ally is a curse," Belarus hissed, "He'll get busted in half a second. Plus he's a coward. If he's somehow caught, he'll rat us all out."

"He doesn't have to stalk. He could do something else. Italian food is quite delicious."

"I refuse to eat that guy's tomatoes," Switzerland grumbled, recalling that time when Romano insulted his cheese. Such an annoying brat. "I agree with Belarus. We don't need him. If you want more members why don't you ask your friends? Denmark would probably love the idea."

The rejection was swift, came from both the Nordic and the Slav, and the latter had her aura unsheathed too. Switzerland groaned. What now?

"He's too close to _my_ Russia," Belarus scowled.

"He's loud and will blab everything the minute he has a beer." Norway added.

Switzerland decided that this was when neutrality came in handy and decided to change the subject. "Hey, look. The curl is bouncing faster now."

Sure enough Romano's curl was bouncing even more now. Glancing over at Italy and Germany the reason became clear. It was actually quite cute. Their meals had been brought and Germany was letting Italy try something off his plate. Probably something potato related.

Belarus' eyes lit up as she her mind went to work.

_Russia would casually cut up his meal, place a small bite on his fork, and then she would lean over and he would place it in her mouth. His gentle violet eyes would gleam softly as he would ask her how the food was._

_"Is it good?"_

_"Yes," she would answer, of course, and then have him try something of hers. It would be a wonderful lunch, just the two of them. And it would lead to something else, something breathtaking, something—_

"Hey princess, your aura's showing." Norway's monotonous voice interrupted her fantasy. She glared at him. "I don't really care what goes on in your head but I don't want us getting kicked out of here because you keep messing with the temperature, so keep a lid on it." She scowled and turned away, the room's temperature rising by a few degrees.

Switzerland, who was growing used to ignoring the bickering nations, suddenly had an idea.

"Maybe we should make those three our guinea pigs." Two pairs of violet eyes turned to him curious. "Our purpose is to work together to stalk our siblings without them noticing us right? Clearly, Germany knows he's being watched. What if we were to help Romano out a little? He'll get to spy on his brother and we'll get to practice working together. We really _should_ learn to get along." Accusing green eyes stared down the icy duo. Belarus turned away and Norway just looked innocent.

"Why not." Norway agreed, "It'll make things interesting at least." Belarus started to cackle.

"Guys, I have a plan…"

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><p>It was taking all of Romano's willpower not to jump out from his hiding place and strangle the potato bastard. Feeding Veneziano potatoes from <em>his<em> plate? That was too "couple-like" and not allowed no matter what the justification was. Why couldn't he have had a smart little brother who clearly understood the dangers of potato bastards like the one in front of him?

Suddenly he saw Germany's phone, which was sticking out of his pocket slightly, start to buzz. He saw the blonde nation pull it out, glance at it, and shove it back into his pocket.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" he heard Veneziano ask.

"_Nein_!" the reaction was...odd. Romano had never thought that something could scare the large muscular nation, but Germany sounded very nervous. Oh? Who was calling him?

The phone continued to buzz. "Ve, you really should answer it, you know. It could be important." Romano snorted. And how many times had Veneziano ignored his own important calls?

"I highly doubt it," Germany stated evenly.

And then it happened. Something that could never ever happen in a million billion years somehow happened. Romano could only watch as an all-too-familiar girl in a blue dress and a terrifying aura suddenly marched over to the table, pulled _Germany_ up by the collar of his suit, yelled obscenities that made _Romano_ wince and literally dragged the giant, muscular and very, very confused nation away by the back of his jacket.

Romano glanced back at the table where his brother sat still whimpering. "I kn-knew it w-was important," he whined. Romano just sat with his mouth hanging open.

What the hell just happened here? He asked himself. Then he watched as a nation in a green army uniform approached Veneziano. He couldn't see who it was but he knew he didn't like that guy. But before he could crawl out from the table and save his little brother (or flee for his life if the person proved too scary) someone lifted the tablecloth and greeted Romano with a rather monotonous,

"_Hei_." Romano froze. Oh no! Very slowly, he craned his neck and found himself face to face with the scary troll summoning bastard. Norway.

Had not a large green hand clamped over his mouth at that moment, he would have screamed. A Very, very, loud scream. Since he couldn't, he just made muffled noises as Norway stayed still watching him.

"It's probably in your best interests to stay quiet," the northern nation mused, "Don't say a word and come to our table. We'll explain everything...maybe." Romano just glared at him, hot, angry, frightened tears streaming down his cheeks. This was a kidnapping! The potato bastard and the troll bastard were in the same family weren't they? Germany was going to pay for this! Where was Spain? Why couldn't he be a dutiful stalker and come save him? Why...

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><p>"I understand that you can be a sneaky guy...I understand that you needed to use your troll to keep him quiet...I don't even care that you had to literally drag him over here...but was it really necessary to make him cry like this?" Switzerland snapped at Norway when he, Norway and Romano were all back at their table. Romano had placed his head on the table and bawled hysterically while yelling apologies and swears at them. Belarus had not yet returned.<p>

Norway just shrugged and ate his lunch which had been brought almost as soon as he returned to the table. The waiter decided not to question where the sobbing Italian had come from and just disappeared afterwards with the appetizer dishes.

"Please don't kill me!" Romano wailed, "I have relatives in Oslo!"

"You're a nation," Norway replied, "I somehow doubt that."

Romano stopped sobbing for a moment, before getting even more hysterical. "Okay I lied! I don't have any relatives in Oslo! Please don't hurt me!"

Switzerland felt a headache come on and started rubbing his temples. He really envied Belarus' role in their plot. Her job was to distract Germany and plant a listening device on him (he had no idea why she had one on her, but apparently the girl kept a lot of things in her dress). Switzerland was supposed to go plant another device on Italy. And Norway, since Romano probably feared the Nordic least of all, was supposed to get Romano to their table.

After Belarus returned, Romano was going to listen in on the "date". The Stalker trio would find three locations and use their cell phones to report what the lovebirds were doing. It would be good practice for when they had to report on their moving targets in the future.

Switzerland couldn't wait for the Belarusian girl's return. As soon as she appeared, they could move to phase II, and finally get away from the screaming Italian. Sighing, he turned to Norway,

"What taking Belarus so long anyway?"

"BELARUS?" Romano's head snapped up in fear. "S-she's here too?"

As if on cue, Belarus suddenly appeared behind him.

"Hey!" she said innocently. This time the trio was too slow. Romano screamed.

* * *

><p>"Ve! That sounded like <em>Fratello<em>!" Italy exclaimed turning to a rather disheveled Germany who had just returned from wherever Belarus had dragged him.

"Er yeah. I hope he's okay," the German replied and adjusted his jacket. "Did it suddenly get colder in here?"

* * *

><p>"Will. You. Stop. Screaming?" Belarus hissed getting louder with each word, her hands around Romano's neck and her dark aura enveloping everyone at the table. She glared at her partners. "I told you to explain everything to him!"<p>

"We were getting to it!" Switzerland retorted, "You came back too quickly!"

"I was gone for seven minutes! How long does it take to plant a listening device on one oblivious idiot, and drag another one to this table and explain everything to him?"

"You'd be surprised," Norway muttered, "And princess, Romano just turned blue. You might want to let go of him now." The girl did as she was told. The color instantly returned to Romano's face as he gasped for air.

"L-listening device?" he gasped out. Belarus pulled up another chair and sat down in it.

"Yes. The Dairy King and I planted listening devices on the two lovers over there." she explained, not paying any mind to 'the Dairy King's' glare at her. Norway bit his lip not to laugh.

"Why?"

"Because we're going to help you spy on them," Norway answered simply.

Romano frowned as he processed this. "_Why_?"

"Why not?" Belarus sipped her Kvass.

"Because you bastards are evil!" Romano squeaked when they all glared daggers at him. He quickly covered his face with the long tablecloth.

Switzerland cooled off first,

"Let's just say we know what it's like to not be able to watch over your sibling."

"Oh you mean how Iceland, Liechtenstein and Russia teamed up?" The trio froze.

"How did you know about that?" Belarus demanded.

"I overheard them at the last world meeting," Romano explained, "So what? Are you bastards teaming up now?"

"Something like that," Norway grumbled, annoyed.

"The point is, we need to practice watching nations as a team, so shut up and let us watch Italy and Germany," Switzerland added icily. Romano just nodded.

"Good. Here," Belarus handed the Italian an old black box with a bunch of dials and a pair of headphones. "I already set the frequency to Italy and Germany's devices so just listen carefully."

"T-thanks," Romano stammered and slipped the headphones on. Belarus hit the 'On' button. Almost instantly, Romano heard a bunch of static, but he could somewhat make out his brother's shrill voice, and Germany's deep one. "There's a lot of static, you jerk."

"I've been using it since 1981. The KGB won't give me a new one. You can hear just fine if you listen carefully." Romano nodded and kept listening. Germany was saying something about a crazy girl with freakish strength. He could only guess what that was about.

"Alright, phase I is complete," Norway said standing up and pulling out his phone, "Let's move onto phase II now." As Switzerland and Belarus pulled out their own phones, Romano slid off the headphones, curiously.

"What's that, you jerks?"

"Phase I was the listening phase," Switzerland explained hitting some buttons on his phone, "But you want to see what they're doing don't you?" Romano nodded.

"We're setting up three-way to keep in touch," Belarus continued and hit the talk button on her phone when it started vibrating.

"I think we should be using Walkie-talkies for this, but Belarus doesn't keep those in her dress, so next time," Norway remarked and hit the talk button on his phone as the opening notes of 'The Oresund Song' started playing. Romano twitched at the nefarious tune and then turned to Belarus, or rather her dress. He didn't want to know.

"Alright, the connection is ready," Switzerland proclaimed and stood up, "Norway and I will go watch over those two. Belarus, you stay here with Romano." As the Nordic and Germanic nations started walking, Romano cried out,

"W-wait why does she have to stay here!"

"If the listening device acts up, only I could fix it," she explained calmly popping an olive into her mouth, "Besides, Germany already saw me here so if he notices me watching him, he'll get suspicious."

"But Veneziano saw the cheese bastard."

"And _he_ will never notice that he's being watched."

"…Good point."

"I know." The conversation ended there, and the stakeout began.

Romano dutifully listened to the conversation receiving heads ups about what the duo was doing every five minutes, from Belarus. According to Norway, who had gotten pretty close, Germany seemed ill at ease for a while as he looked around for Romano, who apparently "gave up and went home", but eventually calmed down, and now seemed pretty relaxed…or as relaxed as Germany could be.

Switzerland reported on their actions, reporting when Italy went off a wild talking spree filled with random gestures, and how Germany kept cleaning the Italian's face with his napkin, not unlike how Switzerland did to Liechtenstein when they had lunch with Austria once. Belarus had to keep Romano from jumping up and attempting to kill Germany for that one.

They continued to do this for the entirety of the "date". Eventually, the bill came, Germany paid it (it was pointless to go Dutch with Italy), and they were on their way with the stalker trio (and Romano) following them all the way to Germany's house. Eventually, Romano received a call from his brother that he was spending the night at Germany's.

"Stupid Veneziano. Stupid potato bastard," Romano hissed standing outside Germany's house with the Stalker Club, as night fell, and the lights in the house all turned off. "Hey, why are we still here anyway?"

"I need my listening devices back," Belarus snapped sticking a knife into the keyhole. Curse Germany for not just leaving a spare key under his mat.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Switzerland warned her, "Even if you wait for them to fall asleep Germany has three giant dogs and Prussia's in there too. You'll get caught."

"Norway can send his troll to get them."

"I could..." the Nordic agreed, "But-"

"You will, if you want us to have listening devices for when we stalk Iceland." Belarus cut him off and finally stabbed the door in frustration, leaving a dent.

"_Блядь_, I can't get this stupid door open!" she hissed. Romano came up to her and moved her out of the way.

"Let me." he said and pulled out a pin from his pocket. After some poking around, he slowly turned the handle and the door opened.

"You can pick locks?" Switzerland asked with a raised brow.

"Obviously," Romano retorted pointing to the door before pointing to Norway, "Now go get those listening devices before those dogs rips us apart." His voice was just above a whisper. Norway nodded and summoned his troll with a quick snap of his fingers. He whispered something in Old Norse and the troll floated in through the open door, returning with Germany's neatly folded jacket and Italy's matted one, a few minutes later. Belarus quickly plucked her listening devices off of them and put them in a little plastic bag. The troll returned to the house to put the clothes back and Romano locked the door afterwards. He breathed a sigh of relief,

"That was easy."

"Yeah..." Norway agreed with a far off look.

"I didn't expect..." Belarus continued with a similar expression.

"...it to be difficult." Switzerland finished. Romano twitched. Of course, he forgot who he was dealing with. There was nothing that fazed those three. They started walking back to the nearest train station.

And some silence, Romano spoke up, "Well this was a success. We should do this again some time."

"We?" Belarus sneered.

"Yes, we!" Romano repeated himself, "I want you to help stake out their next date too."

"Uh...No." Norway stated.

"What?"

"This was a practice round for us," Switzerland explained, "For when we follow our siblings next time."

"But-"

"No buts," Belarus snapped, "We did all the work today anyway." Romano thought about this for a moment.

"But you would have never gotten the listening devices back without my lock picking skills, you jerks!"

"If we really needed to, we could have had Prussia open the door for us," Switzerland pointed out.

"Or find an open window and send the Troll in through it," Norway added. Romano scowled.

"What if I paid you!" he suddenly shouted.

Two gold digging nations instantly stopped. Belarus and Switzerland instantly turned to Romano with eager faces. Norway stopped and looked at them with an annoyed expression.

"Keep talking Italia Romano," Belarus said in a low purr. Romano gulped. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

"W-well have you guys thought about the expenses for your club? Traveling all over the world, buying disguises, new equipment, cell phone bills?" The trio exchanged looks. Okay, maybe they hadn't thought that far ahead. Suddenly the club sounded really expensive.

"I'm not paying for all of you," Norway quickly said.

"Three-way is expensive," Switzerland muttered, "And we kept it on for several hours today."

"I could use a new up-to-date listening device," Belarus agreed. They all turned to Romano with sly smiles.

"Go on, Romano," the girl said, her aura appearing again.

"Well, you guys could make your club like a business. When you're not stalking your siblings, you could stalk someone else's siblings. I know I'm not the only one who stalks someone. Belgium stalks her brother, the potato bastard's brother stalks the music bastard and Hungary...um...I think the eyebrow bastard stalks the hamburger bastard."

"We could make a fortune!" Belarus exclaimed, "I could buy a nice dress for my wedding, wedding, wedding!"

"Er...yeah," Romano rolled his eyes, "And I could be your financial manager!"

There was a pregnant pause. Then the trio started laughing hysterically.

"What is it you jerks?" Romano asked angrily.

"In Heaven, the bankers are Swiss," Belarus sang.

"In Hell, they're Italian," Norway finished, "If anyone's managing our money, it's Switzerland." The Swiss smirked proudly.

"...Dammit. I still want to join your club!"

"No way."

"Well...I could be your errand boy! If you need me to buy things or manage your schedules or-"

"Romano, if we do set up our club as a business, we'll let you be our client anyway," Switzerland snapped at him, "Why do you want to join?"

"...Because I'm kinda broke too, you bastards. Besides this was my idea! I want in too!" he smirked as an idea entered his mind, "If you don't let me join, I'll tell the whole world about this club at the next world meeting!" He suddenly found himself at gunpoint, knifepoint, and trollpoint.

"CHIGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!"

* * *

><p>In his house in Madrid, Spain awoke from his nice dream with a start. "I thought I just heard Romano scream!" he exclaimed, "How strange." And he plopped back down on the bed, to enter his beloved tomato and churro filled dreamland once again.<p>

* * *

><p>"Alright, you can join," Switzerland gritted out, rubbing his temples.<p>

"But if you ever scream like that again..." Norway hissed.

"I'll kill you." Belarus finished. Romano nodded tearfully. The trio put away their weapons.

"Alright then, we'll take you up on the errand boy offer for now," Switzerland muttered, "Maybe you could be our chef or something." Romano nodded.

"Now we should probably decide on a meeting place," Norway said, "We can't meet at my place. Denmark is over a lot and Ice stays over once in a while."

"Mine is out of the question. Liechtenstein _lives_ there."

Belarus looked out towards the East. "Mine is-"

"Absolutely not!" All three males shouted at her. Belarus scowled and turned to Romano.

"We can't use my place. Spain could drop in at any time and with Veneziano living there, our club might not stay secret for long."

They all frowned. "We're not renting out a place or using some abandoned building," Switzerland stated quickly. Rent and renovations would be expensive.

"Maybe we should get another member then," Norway muttered, "Someone who no one visits willingly and _not_ in East Europe." Belarus flipped him off.

"Someone who wouldn't mind us stalking others..." he mused.

"Some bastard who would like to stalk others himself and would love to get paid for it." Romano added. When he saw their confused looks he added, "We can't use some bastard's house without paying him something!"

"Someone like..." All four pairs of eyes widened at the same time.

And that was how the Sibling Stalking Club found themselves on the next train to Paris...

* * *

><p><strong>That's it for Chapter 2. Next time, everyone's favorite Big Brother appears ^^<strong>

**Some Notes: **

**_"Блядь_" is a Russian swear. It's pronounced "Blya-d'"**

**Kvass is "Russian soda". Its kinda disgusting, but Russians love it o.o**

**Reinsdyrsteik (reindeer steak) is a Norwegian dish. Poor reindeer.**


	3. The Journey to France's House

**Disclaimer: This Fic is written by Fortune Maiden and Koder. The Idea is ours but unfortunately Hetalia isn't. ****Hetalia belongs to Himaruya.**

* * *

><p>The Sibling Stalking Club<p>

Chapter 3: The Journey to France's House...

* * *

><p><em><strong>1000<strong>__** hours**_

_**A Train Station in Paris, France**_

The four stalkers sat, two asleep, exhausted on a bench in a Parisian train station. They had just endured a long, grueling train ride, which had involved being annoyed mercilessly by the children of a family that didn't believe in personal hygiene, and Belarus and Switzerland being restrained by officers on the train for their violent retaliation to the behavior of said children. If only Norway hadn't been such a stick-in-the-mud, and bought them first class tickets too… The two conscious members of the quartet now realized, all too late, that they had no idea where the man who represented the country of _l'amour _lived.

It wasn't all that surprising really. None of the countries of the stalker quartet had really been involved with France. Switzerland and Romano, who shared borders with the Frenchman, avoided the self-proclaimed 'master of love' like the plague (unless money was involved for the former), and Norway and Belarus never personally dealt with him in alliances, and were too far away geographically for him to make easy contact with.

The stalker quartet was never flirted with by France either. The Belarusian and Swiss would maim him with their weapons, Norway would summon his troll and had Denmark and the Dane's axe at his disposal, and Romano had Spain to protect him. Spain may not sound all that threatening, but he had once cheerfully made a point to France that he would sharpen his axe on his bones if he so much as _looked at _Romano.

"You wouldn't happen to have his phone number would you?" Norway questioned, as he poked Romano in an effort to wake the southern Italian. He wasn't going to risk waking Switzerland; that man kept his gun too close.

"No," stated Belarus, annoyed. "I've never had any reason to." Norway sighed.

"Information desk maybe?" he suggested, gesturing to the nearby booth with a giant illuminated 'I' attached to the top. They both thought it was hardly likely for a country to leave their number, let alone their address at something as easily accessible as an information desk, but having no other options, Belarus nodded and marched over to the desk, her icy gaze fixed determinedly on the only man there, who was unfortunately listening to his new iPod touch.

This was very unfortunate (as anyone who knows Belarus would know) as the knife-wielding country hated not being listened to while she was talking. She proceeded to rip the device out of the poor man's hands, and stab it with one of her knives. She then threw it across the room to the opposite wall for good measure. And all while keeping a blank but visibly displeased expression on her face and her aura quite visible.

The iPod man, who had at first been annoyed with the premature death of his music listening machine, was now terrified as he gazed at the dangerous but beautiful girl before him. Belarus hoped this man spoke English, as it was highly unlikely that he spoke Belarusian, Russian or Ukrainian, and those were the only other languages she knew well enough to speak without fear of saying the wrong thing. She couldn't remember any of the French she learned for the noble courts centuries ago either. (She only did it to impress Russia of course. When he stopped speaking it, she stopped speaking it.)

"Um… Hello-" she began, but was cut off.

"I not speak English," the man stated in broken and heavily French accented speech "French only. I is sorry" The man bowed his head after speaking, as an apologetic gesture. Belarus, angry about being interrupted, didn't accept the apology, and grabbed the man's neck to choke him.

"YOU SHOULD SPEAK IT! THIS IS A FREAKIN' INFORMATION DESK!" she screamed, enraged, "TELL ME WHERE FRANCIS BONNEFOY LIVES!" The man was slowly going various shades of purple and blue from lack of air.

It was now that Norway decided to risk waking the Swiss. Switzerland could not only stop Belarus' attack on the innocent Frenchman, but could translate anything else he happened to say, being the only nation in the stalker group with French as a known and official language. (Norway could have dealt with Belarus on his own, of course, but he didn't want the Frenchman to be committed for hallucinating a troll)

As Norway before predicted, Switzerland did whip out the gun and shoot when he was woken. Fortunately for the Nordic, the Swiss aimed upwards, creating a hole in the ceiling instead of the head of a former Viking.

The Swiss was not happy about being woken up. He had wasted one of his bullets, and those cost precious money. He'd normally just pull the bullet out of whatever he had shot, and if it wasn't too mangled, he'd use it again. Fat chance of that happening when the bullet was lodged in the ceiling.

He reluctantly got up, and after assessing the situation _and _having it unnecessarily explained to him by Norway, - Just because he liked taking siestas, and he spoke Italian, didn't mean he was completely thick-headed like Veneziano – he walked over to the info desk, and as calmly as someone holding a gun can do, told Belarus to release the man, which she did, albeit reluctantly.

"Je suis désolé, monsieur," apologized Switzerland to the information-man, who just looked relieved he could understand what the Swiss was saying, "Elle est folle." Most countries knew little snippets of every language, such as how to say hello and goodbye, so Switzerland hoped Belarus hadn't understood what he'd said about her. She'd take it as an insult, which it was, but it was also an observation. She just scowled at him and turned away muttering swears in Russian.

"C'est ok," the man replied, his face turning a normal color once more.

Switzerland then proceeded to ask for France's telephone number and address, neither of which the man had. Defeated, Belarus and Switzerland began the short journey back to where Norway and Romano were sitting and sleeping respectively. The Slav decided to vent her frustration of the situation by repeatedly poking Romano in the stomach. This ultimately caused the southern Italian to wake up.

"Ow- bastard! Stop it!" It was then that Romano realized _who_ he was talking to; a person with a murderous aura (currently unsheathed), and who carried many knives on her at all times. "Oh… I'm- wait. Shouldn't we be at the wine pervert's house by now?"

"We _would_ be," Belarus began with faux sweetness, "if we knew where it was. Do _you _happen to know by any chance? He is your _Big Brother France _isn't he?"

"No, he's just Veneziano's 'big brother'" Romano scoffed, disgusted his little brother would let someone as obviously perverted as France suck away his innocence by gracing the northern Italian with his perverted Frenchy presence. "I make a point not to associate with the croissant bastard as a _rule."_

Belarus relaxed from her murderous _ready-to-kill_ stance and slumped in a very un-lady-like way on the bench. Norway commented on it and was barely saved from a flying knife by an irritated Switzerland who sat between them, gun cradled, glaring daggers. Romano just "Hmm"ed. The club was going to come to an end, the four thought, before it had even started… That was until _Romano _of all people had a brilliant idea.

"I have the _tomato bastard's_ number!" he exclaimed jumping up on the bench, waving his phone around, "He spends half his time at the pervert's house, so he must know the address." The rest of the stalkers were just as excited as he, they just didn't show it; showing excitement just wasn't their thing. Especially Norway, showing _anything _wasn't his thing.

"I'll do the talking," Belarus said coolly, snatching the phone out of Romano's hand and pressing the dial button next to Spain's name.

_Ring, ring…_

"You'll do no such thing!" Switzerland protested, gun out, "He'll wet his pants and hang up the minute he hears your voice!"

_Ring, ring…_

"Nadal beat Federer in the French open this year didn't he?" Belarus taunted, knowing how competitive Switzerland was, "Are you sure you're not just upset about that?"

_Ring, ring…_

"I'm not concerned about a petty tennis comp-"

_Ring, ring…_

"You sure seem to be-"

_Ring, ring…_

During the childish altercation between the Slav and the Swiss, Norway and Romano's heads had been following the flow of speech like they themselves were watching a tennis match. Norway soon had enough.

_Ring, ring…_

"_Quiet," _the ball was off the court. All heads swiveled to Norway. "_I'll_ do the talking."

_Ring, ring…_

"But-" Norway sighed.

_Ring, ring…_

"I'll put it on speaker so you can hear." The other three nodded in agreement.

_Ring-_

"_¡__Hola! _This is Spain! I don't have caller ID, so I don't know who this is…" Norway used the international request for silence, a finger over the lips.

"Spain," he began, "this is Norway."

"Ah! _¡__Noruega!"_ that Spaniard's voice really was too cheerful, "Is there anything you need?" Norway nodded, before remembering Spain couldn't see him nod.

"Ah, _ja_, I was wondering if you could tell me France's address." That was Norway, ever blunt and to the point.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but _why_?" Oh crap. None of the stalker quartet expected Spain to question their reasons, he just wasn't the type. Even _Romano _was taken aback by the Spaniard's request, and he had _lived _with the guy for most of his life.

"Just business," replied Norway, not missing a beat, "His address?"

"Oh! Of course! Just let me find my address book!" Romano face-palmed. That was so like Spain.

"Thank-you."

"I've found it! His address is…"

* * *

><p>After getting France's country-side address from Spain, the Stalker quartet found themselves riding out of Paris on bicycles. How did they get in this situation you ask? Well, they first attempted to rent a car, but none of them had a driver's license on them, as countries usually caught public transport, or had private chauffeurs take them places.<p>

Next, they attempted to hire a taxi. About 20 minutes into the drive, the driver, who was a war veteran, saw Switzerland's gun, and was reminded of some memories he wished to forget.

They then found a bike shop, and Norway being rich, and not as stingy as Switzerland, bought them each a bike. They were the cheapest ones he could find, -because even he was a cheapskate _sometimes_- and they were all various shades of pink, except for Belarus', which was purple, with sparkly streamers attached to the handlebars. She actually seemed to like it.

Belarus had attached her GPS, another useful stalking tool - especially with the Russia-tracker she had installed- to the handlebars of her bike, and was leading her companions through the countryside, following its directions, which were, fortunately for her companions, in English.

"We're almost there!" she shouted excitedly, putting on speed, the others eagerly following her example. This had to be the first time in history that anyone besides Spain, Prussia and America? No… that's not it… The first time that anyone besides Spain, Prussia and the America look-alike had been _eager_ to get to the French frog's house.

Belarus led them onto a winding dirt road that Romano remembered from a visit to France with Spain so many years ago. It led to a magnificent white villa with a brown roof, and red roses, one of France's symbols, climbing the walls on lattices.

The stalkers leaned their bikes up against a bush, and continued up the road, which had melted gradually into a stone path that led to the front door.

Norway, who got to the door first, clasped the brass door knocker, and knocked three times, before stepping back in line with his companions. Rapid footsteps could be heard approaching the door, and soon the door was flung open – Leaving Norway glad he'd stepped back. He would have gotten his face squashed! – To reveal an all-to-familiar person.

"_Bonjour mes amis!_" France exclaimed, taking each person's face – including Belarus's, much to her disgust- in his hands, and kissing both cheeks twice each in traditional French greeting. "And 'ow are you all?"

"We are fine." Switzerland answered for the group.

"Ah! How silly of me! Come in _mes amis!" _France ushered the quartet inside, and asked them to sit.

"Now France," began Norway "If you would kindly get your hand out of my trousers, we have a proposition for you."

* * *

><p><strong>I'm sorry the chapter isn't as long as Fortune Maiden's, but I thought this would be a good place to end it. I need to practice writing longer chapters…<strong>

**Note: The French Info-man's speech has been written in incorrect grammar on purpose.**

**Spain takes a while to answer his phone doesn't he? He must have been having a siesta.**

**A couple of history notes (even this story has some history ^^"):**

**Belarus and Norway have never been allied with France ****_but_**** Russia and Denmark were during times when the former two were still a part of them. (And Denmark refers to himself as the oldest brother so…)**

**Also, the official language of the Tsarist Russian courts was French. Which means all the nobles spoke French (They also spoke English and German along with Russian) According to Himaruya, Belarus is forgetting Belarusian so she probably forgot French already too (If she ever knew it) ^^" **

Translations

_l'amour _– love (French)

_Je suis désolé, monsieur_ – I am sorry, mister (French)

_Elle est folle –_ She is crazy (French)

_C'est ok_ – It's ok (French)

_Hola_ – Hello (Spanish)

_Noruega _– Norway (Spanish)

_Bonjour mes amis! – _Hello my friends! (French)


End file.
